Each whispered word, taken to heart, felt hurt betrayal so deep your heart bleeds with hope for a brighter future. Each achievement all rolled into the mixing pot of life. Some find the culmination of that conclusion too much to bare, some run away when I enter a room, through sheer disgust perhaps, but more likely as an answer, they hide in shadows boiling over their loss, their girl reset their collar, run away, after digesting a truth or believed truth, they made a choice, and me? I smile seeing the revolving door of life continue its way, as it did for me so long ago..
Understandable really when you think about it, but and yes there is a but! But, do you see her name attached to mine? Do you see my name attached to hers? Do you? No. Why? Because her desires lay else where! Her journey was not being fulfilled! Her own actions and in actions proved this point! And now it is?. I think it is. Of course the other reason is because my name is attached to my wives!
The complex journey of my life and collar, is simplified with the very simple fact. I made the right choice, I knelt to that special one. And more to the point She accepted my submission. The strength and unity of our partnership, amplified by our truth shared trust, gained accepted and digested, brings the balance of my life into sharp reflective open honesty.
My own journey and even yours is still ongoing, we mourn the loss of a friend, but we celebrate her finding what she desired. What She needed! Not because I say so, but her actions do. And they speak volumes. Now I am not picking on anyone in this post, but I wonder how many reading it can relate to it? I will bet the number high, and that is a tragedy! However I have I think highlighted yet another truth as I previously in a post pointed out, that some Masters and Mistresses are not what they claim to be, and the longer they run away, the more my point is proven.
Bygones be bygones. We all share this cage, and though its resources are limitless in knowledge, basic truth and desire, and of course the cage does not conform thankfully to social morality! But it would be nice if that old dusty book was dusted off and the page found on respect. Duty is a chapter that needs a reread for some basic politeness might be a lecture they may wish to read. Talking with a Dom of those southern untied states, (not a spelling mistake!) Has made me realize that their “creed” and our old school styles are not so far apart. So why can’t people get it into their heads? Simple respect you may not like me, I may not like you, but I will always be both respectful and polite. Even if you talk directly to my breasts.
Of course there are a few remaining sparkplugs in the box. That simply end up on the steel tipped toe of ignore buttons. Thankfully they are few and far between. Your kinks not my kink, but your kinks OK! Only works when your kink or even mine! Doesn’t destroy a person from being a person. We tolerate a lot in this lifestyle that society frowns upon, from baby littles, to furry wolves, from Victorian sadists to robotic latex unwrapped goddesses! Giants to vampire mice, And every thing under the sun in between. Without trust loyalty and respect we are no better than politicians! Without hope we are less than we could or should ever be! Think on this when you see me next, stop in say hi! I don’t bite I might nibble! If She let’s me!
Some news, a sadness descends upon the giants, the time of the tree nears its conclusion and already the first of the watch has made land spur and bug an yo fill the holds of our ships with the furniture of our lives. Packing with care items that we have treasured, and memories in all directions fill the eyes with tears both joy and sorrow at lasting lust full advances, and broken hearts of our parting.
The first of the watch looks on, seeing the world crated up from coecri, and shipped to a muster point, brings a gond farewell to that home which steadies us through our doldrums and happiness st rebuilding the trust and relationships we have. But all too soon, the first calls a time stands proud st the helm, clutching her golden loaded rudder in her hand and with a face carved yo keep the salt from her eyes, the boat slowly drifts from the land. In search therefore of new adventures, new memories we of the first watch, take our turn at the helm of this flag ship.
Steering new uncharted waters brings new excitement to old bones. Soon a land mass forms through the early mist, of s baked warm morning. The first cals the watch to port, to watch this ghost of flat earth pass the hull. In that moment, She calls the moment and declares new land of Threndor as our last reach. And do now the long and tiresome reinsertion of those memories, mixed as they will be with new adventures, strike a land spur, beech the ship, and set a tent to call new homeland the last reach, flat in its gentle slopes where coecri was high in her cliff sides and rock, so then to Kyral Threndor.
Unexpected though it may be, the family swells its ranks. And with it new blood and old mingle in its define choices, made by unseen hands of the cosmos, and given to our flaws and faults. By Her whim it be, thrice the crone calls the ward, and thrice thus do we mortal fools heed the call of the First of the Watch.
With due respect Rose Bright flame giant of Kyral Threndor. X